


kiss him it's christmas (or tradition)

by Katraa



Category: DRAMAtical Murder - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Character Death, Holiday Cheer, M/M, Mistletoe, Shenanigans, aoba plots and sly suffers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-25
Updated: 2014-12-25
Packaged: 2018-03-03 11:03:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2848577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katraa/pseuds/Katraa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“But he,” Aoba begins but then sighs.  “I invited Noiz over for our party because Sly wasn’t going to do it and I’m tired of them beating around the bush.”</p><p>Koujaku doesn’t mention that he himself beat around the bush for <i>years</i> before he finally mustered up the courage to blurt out his feelings to his childhood best friend.  Koujaku also doesn’t mention that Aoba was entirely oblivious and that maybe it just runs in the family and Sly isn’t really to blame here. But he bites his tongue, because he wants to end up in bed with Aoba tonight and he wouldn’t risk that for a beanie-sporting idiot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	kiss him it's christmas (or tradition)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [driedupwishes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/driedupwishes/gifts).



> MERRY CHRISTMAS.  
> HELLO YES FIC FOR EVERYONE.  
> MERRY CHRISTMAS  
> this was so much fun.  
> also this is to my name partner in crime because she listens to my weird rambles and provides me with great titles and great thoughts and yes ok im shutting up now.

“This is a bad idea, Aoba.”  
  
“Ah, hippo, don’t say that! I think it’s a great idea. He’s never going to smarten up on his own, you know. He just needs a little push. That’s all.”  
  
Aoba positively beams as he finishes icing the cake, making a mess out of the kitchen that Tae so meticulously cleaned only hours before. Koujaku is nearby at the table, sighing, looking down at his Coil. His face is contorted into a look of disgruntlement with a dash of dismay, as if he’s absolutely _dreading_  the imminent future.  
  
“I don’t think pushing Sly is ever a good idea,” Koujaku mumbles, frowning down at his Coil as he scrolls through the messages from his team members. “Do you remember last time?”  
  
“Ah…” Aoba trails off, in the midst of icing the last section of the cake. “That was a fluke. He was feeling under the weather.”  
  
“Aoba. Your brother got us all kicked out of the restaurant.”  
  
“He didn’t want the onions, ok! He hates them,” Aoba mutters, face turning bright red at the memory of his twin brother throwing a hissy fit at the restaurant and the poor waitress who, by poor luck, had forgotten to tell the chefs that the youngest Seragaki hated - despised - onions and that he was mildly allergic to them. So, by all rights, Sly had a reason to be petty, but the way he executed it was less than tasteful. In fact, it was just plain trashy.  
  
“He called the waitress a lowlife who would never amount to anything more in life than sucking guys off,” Koujaku says, hands rising into the air to air-quote. His face looks like he’s just swallowed something sour, and even recounting the tale makes the older man quite uncomfortable.  
  
“Koujaku…” Aoba trails off, definitely about to sport a pout as he finishes up the cake and sets it aside. He turns around, leaning back against the counter so he can look squarely over at his boyfriend. “Just please try and get along with Noiz today, ok? I know you don’t—“  
  
“That little beansprout,” Koujaku interrupts, looking even more irritated than before. “As long as he doesn’t start it, I won’t.”  
  
“But he,” Aoba begins but then sighs. “I invited Noiz over for our party because Sly wasn’t going to do it and I’m tired of them beating around the bush.”  
  
Koujaku doesn’t mention that he himself beat around the bush for  _years_  before he finally mustered up the courage to blurt out his feelings to his childhood best friend. Koujaku also doesn’t mention that Aoba was entirely oblivious and that maybe it just runs in the family and Sly isn’t really to blame here. But he bites his tongue, because he wants to end up in bed with Aoba tonight and he wouldn’t risk that for a beanie-sporting idiot.  
  
“I just want Sly to be happy. And he’s happiest around Noiz, y’know?” Aoba sighs, almost dreamily, hands flexing. “Like, he actually was laughing on his Coil last night, did I tell you? Like, literal laughter. I haven’t heard Sly laugh like that for years.”  
  
“Are you sure it was Noiz and not some video of someone getting hurt,” Koujaku mumbles, astutely, but it’s still a bit over the line because Aoba chucks the dish towel at him.  
  
“Hippo!”  
  


* * *

  
  
“Aoba. It seems that you are unfortunately two centimeters too short to reach that destination.”  
  
“Ah, Ren, I can do it, really!”  
  
Aoba is struggling to hang up a cheap piece of mistletoe up on the entryway of the living room, but he’s having a hard time, and his mechnical dog probably can’t help much. He’s almost fallen off the chair, twice, and Koujaku is out doing errands so he can’t help out his helpless boyfriend. So, Aoba decides to snag a chair from across the room, and with the skill and grace of a woodland animal, somehow manages to hang the mistletoe - crookedly - without breaking his neck.  
  
He stands back, akimbo, admiring his work. “…It’ll do.”  
  
He sighs, because it looks kind of crappy but it still was hard work and he really didn’t think the piece of twig would arrive on time for their party. He’s about to head back into the kitchen to tend to the fruit bowl and other party favors but he’s interrupted when a certain ball of blue bursts into the room.  
  
“Wholy shit,” Sly says with no prior warning, cheeks puffed out and flailing his arms around. “Are you kidding me. Are they  _really postponing_  the demo for this game  _again_?”  
  
“Huh?” Aoba looks over to him, just downright confused. He’s usually pretty up on his games but Sly’s knowledge of the newest and hottest indie games always makes him stop and marvel. Sly really has a knack for quirks.  
  
“Dude, the one I was—” Sly sighs, annoyed, before he flicks a glance up at the piece of green that is very obviously floating in the air above his older brother. “…How gay are you.”  
  
“It’s a tradition!”  
  
“Bullshit. We’ve never had one of those in here before. Get it out.”  
  
“I think it’s fun.”  
  
“It’s for babies. Get that trash out of here. I don’t need to see you and your boyfriend sucking face in the middle of my dinner.”  
  
“Sly—!” Aoba begins, face on fire, raising a fist in a faux display of violence.  
  
“Heh. That’s what’s it for, right?’  
  
Aoba concedes, if only because he doesn’t want to admit that the real reason the lonesome twig is up there is actually to get Noiz and Sly to confront their feelings, and not for Aoba and Koujaku to make eyes and lips at one another. But the latter is still a nice thought and alternative, if the former doesn’t pan out.  
  
Sly takes a seat on the couch and sprawls out much like a cat. He reaches for the drawer of the end table and takes out his handheld gaming system and starts playing it.  
  
“Hey, Sly,” Aoba begins, voice trilling and treading dangerously close to scheming, “Can you run a few errands for me?”  
  
“I don’t see what you’re doing that makes you incapable of it yourself,” Sly mutters, tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth as he tries to focus on what sounds like a boss battle with lots of swords clanging and clinking.  
  
“I’m baking. I need to put more cookies in after those are done.”  
  
“Wow you are so domestic. Just get married to the freak already,” Sly sighs, but it sounds fond instead of insulting and he rolls his eyes for good measure. There’s a moment of hesitation before Sly nudges his feet off the table and pauses his game. He looks up and over at Aoba expectantly. “Well. What do you need?”  
  
Aoba thinks up a fake list hurriedly and Sly writes it down on his Coil.  
  
It’s enough to get Sly out of the house for awhile so Aoba can invite Noiz over and have everyone else arrive. Just in time for Sly to get back and get trapped and for Aoba to execute the plan.  
  
Nothing could possibly go wrong.  
  
He was a genius.  
  


* * *

  
  
“The places looks great, Aoba!”  
  
Mizuki slings his arm around his friend, admiring all the decorations and tables of food he’s laid out. Members of Dry Juice and Beni Shigure are already piling into the Seragaki household and Tae is upstairs, getting ready, finishing up her hair. She isn’t exactly fond of some of the guys, but over the years she’s grown to know them as extended family, if only because they were there for the twins when their oldest brother passed two years ago. It was a hard time for everyone and the warmth and concern the Rib players showed for her grandsons warmed her heart beyond words.  
  
Koujaku is currently on the couch, drinking some wine, chuckling with his members. Some of the Dry Juice and Beni guys are mingling - just because it’s the holidays - and everyone seems to be really enjoying the cooking that Aoba has slaved over.  
  
It’s around that time that Noiz shows up, wearing his usual hat and cute piercings. There’s actually a button of a candy cane on his hat - which is weird since it’s one of the few spots of red in his entire outfit - and it’s probably the closest thing to festive Noiz will ever be. But it’s a start.  
  
Aoba heads over to him after telling Mizuki about his plan - to which Mizuki can’t stop laughing in response to - and smiles broadly.  
  
“Hi, Noiz.”  
  
“…Hey.” Noiz wrinkles his nose, staring at the twin of his best friend.  
  
“Sly is out getting some stuff right now,” Aoba explains, the grin growing even wider.  
  
“‘kay.” Noiz doesn’t seem fazed as he heads over to the snack table, Aoba hot on his tail.  
  
“You know,” Aoba begins again, the look on his face less of a smile than a devious grin, “There’s a tree over there that you can leave the bag of presents under.”  
  
“I will later,” Noiz says, noncommittally, as he picks up a tiny tart. “…What is this?”  
  
“That?” Aoba looks entranced. “That’s a tart. Have you never had one before, Noiz?”  
  
“No.” Noiz frowns at it, letting the bag of presents rest at his side. “What is it?”  
  
“Uh. It’s like a mix of fruit with a crust? Granny taught me the recipe a long time ago and I’ve been making them for awhile. They were Sei’s favorite.” Aoba smiles, wistfully and a bit distantly. His hands kind of flex at his sides, as if he’s trying to reel in the memories - while sweet and full of love, also painful.  
  
“Mm.” Noiz nods, knowing well enough to not tread too deeply into the subject of the sweet-hearted oldest brother because of how fresh the wound still is - he knows well enough because of Sly and the reaction the bratty brat gets whenever it comes up. Noiz tries to avoid all situations of displaced emotions. At all costs.  
  
“So,” Aoba pipes up again as he watches Noiz try the tart. “Do you like it? And did you get Sly a present?”  
  
“It’s okay,” Noiz says, just as blandly as before, just around the same time as he looks down at the bag. “Yeah.”  
  
“What’d you get him?”  
  
“Ask him later.”  
  
“Noiz!” Aoba huffs, crossing his arms. “Tell me! I want to know if you did well.”  
  
Noiz smirks, a kind of half-grin that creeps up from the corner of his lips. He cocks his head to the side, pretty green eyes fixated on Aoba, and Aoba momentarily realizes how pretty Noiz is and why his brother is so infatuated with the bratty kid. And it makes Aoba want to see them happy, together, even more. “Nope.”  
  
“Noiz,” Aoba groans, again. “Please tell me you didn’t buy him booze.”  
  
“Why would I?” Noiz frowns.  
  
“Because half the guys here did because they didn’t know what else to get him.”  
  
Noiz rolls his eyes. “I knew better.”  
  
Aoba smiles. “Yeah. You definitely know him better.”  
  
Noiz misses what Aoba is implying by that and he leaves the blonde to pick around at the dessert table.  
  


* * *

  
  
“Are you sure you don’t want to set him up with someone more responsible? I mean the kid is trouble—“  
  
Koujaku is ceremoniously shoved in the side, jabbed by an elbow, and frowned at all at once by his petulant boyfriend. Aoba has rejoined Koujaku on the couch at this point and is watching Noiz from afar. There’s this wondrous look in Aoba’s eyes and if it wasn’t for how sweet he was, it probably would look mischievious and dangerous.  
  
“I bet he bought Sly something cute. Like a necklace,” Aoba sighs, hands going under his chin.  
  
Koujaku is about to gag. “Or condoms.”  
  
“Koujaku!” Aoba turns dark red and reaches over to swat at his boyfriend again. “… Oi, besides. If that was the case, we wouldn’t be having this operation.”  
  
“It’s an operation now?” Koujaku is beyond amused and he raises a brow. His arm goes around his boyfriend and he chuckles deeply, right in Aoba’s ear. “Ah. So you’re a detective now, huh?”  
  
Aoba blushes down to his collar and squirms. Just a tad. He hasn’t gotten used to how easily Koujaku can fluster him, and Aoba wonders if he  _ever will_. It’s not a bad thing, though. He embraces it.  
  
It’s around that time that Sly  _finally_  gets back from the store.  
  
He has bags in his hands and there’s undoubtedly a  _santa hat_  on his head. The brat is wearing a santa hat and hoisting the bags in the air, standing in the threshold of the living room. And that’s when he belts out, a shit-eating grin on his face, “Hey. Santa’s here, you boring shits, be glad! I got the booze!”  
  
Koujaku looks like a very disappointed father and Aoba just buries his hands into his face. Why him?  
  


* * *

  
  
After Sly is done unpacking the snacks and booze, he realizes in a state of absolute horror and paleness, that his beyond-pretty best friend is actually at the party and is surveying the long table of food. It takes Sly a total of ten minutes to wander over. He feels his brother’s gaze very intently on him but he doesn’t question it - he should be, because the mistletoe and Aoba going out of his way to invite Noiz over are very suspicious, but right now Sly is too focused on the fact that Noiz is  _here_ during the holidays and not playing Rhyme for once or eating pancakes. Or pizza. He’s here and he’s just standing around not talking to anyone.  
  
“Hey, bunny boy,” Sly greets, slinking over to his best friend. “You’re here?”  
  
“Yeah.” Noiz looks back over his shoulder, blinking slowly. He has both hands filled with various assorted sweets that Aoba made. “Your brother invited me.”  
  
“Did he…” Sly trails off, eyebrows knitting together and he looks very uneasy. “Did he say why?”  
  
“Dunno.” Noiz rolls his shoulders in a shrug and that’s around the time he shoves this cupcake-looking-thing at Sly’s lips. “What is this? It tastes good.”  
  
“H-hey, hey, brat!” Sly barks, turning a soft pink as the cupcake is shoved into his mouth. He averts his gaze, chest and heart feeling light and his brain a bit fried, as he forces himself to remember how to chew. “…It’s a chocolate cupcake you moron. What did you think it was?” he whispers it, for some reason, hands balled up at his sides.  
  
“Oh.” Noiz nods and then he’s reaching for Sly’s hand to direct him to the other end of the table to point at the crepes. “What about these?”  
  
“They’re  _crepes_ , Noiz. Do you ever leave that rock you were born under?” Sly deadpans. Which would sound normal, had his voice not cracked just a tiny bit and his eyes not been glued down to their hands. Their fingers aren’t laced and by no means is it intimate, but it’s warm and Noiz’s piercings feel oddly ticklish on his hands. Sly hasn’t stopped staring - and good thing Noiz is oblivious and too into the crepes - because he feels his heart in his throat and he just doesn’t  _get it_. And maybe he should get it, because the idea of Noiz’s piercings brushing down his back and neck sneaks into his head by pure accident and he feels like his skin is on fire.  
  
“Crepes. That’s french?” Noiz murmurs it as he tries to eat one with only his left-hand.  
  
Sly wants to tell him to just use both hands, but that’d require Noiz letting go and Sly isn’t entirely sure he wants that.  
  
Unfortunately, that’s around the time that Aoba calls Sly into the kitchen so they can bring out the main dishes. Sly curses Aoba’s horrible timing, but then thanks the gods for his brother, because Aoba winks at him and he suddenly thinks  _something is up_.  
  
So Sly begrudgingly tells Noiz he’ll be back and heads into the kitchen.  
  


* * *

  
  
“You like him.”  
  
“Like who?”  
  
“You really do like him! You guys were so cute over there!” Aoba is absolutely fascinated and he just can’t stop smiling. He puts his hands on his brother’s shoulder to try and steer Sly’s eyes to meet his. “Have you kissed yet?”  
  
“W-what? Fuck off,” Sly mumbles, rolling his eyes, and he tries to shrug his twin off. But twins just won’t let it go. They never do. “Aoba.”  
  
“I think you should kiss him as a holiday gift. Y’know, just lean in and—“  
  
Sly covers Aoba’s mouth with his hand, frowning. “Shut up and help me get the roast out of the oven or so help me god I’m going to go over and give your boyfriend a lap dance.”  
  
Aoba concedes, but he does manage to chime in a quick, “Maybe it’d make Noiz jealous enough for one of you to finally do something.”  
  
Sly pretends to not hear it.  
  
They both know he does.  
  


* * *

  
  
Something sets Sly off. Something someone says or doesn’t say sets him off and he can’t stop thinking about Sei and he excuses himself upstairs for a brief while. He just treks up the steps and no one really  _notices_ , exactly, that the bratty troublemaker is gone. No one besides, Noiz, though, who is here exclusively  _for_  Sly, so of course he would notice. And Noiz hesitates, almost asks Aoba what’s going on, but thinks better of it. He doesn’t feel like talking to Koujaku and starting a fight - not on Christmas, for once - so he heads over to the stairs and heads upstairs when Sly doesn’t come back down after five minutes.  
  
He’s never been in Sly’s room.  
  
And maybe there’s a good reason for it. It’s pretty normal, just your typical shared bedroom with a twin. There’s posters and blue walls and it looks fairly normal. Sly has a few indie band and game stuff hanging on his side but that’s it. Noiz isn’t sure what he was expecting.  
  
What he wasn’t expecting was Sly laying on his side, eyes puffy and red and cheeks stained and oh my god was Sly Blue  _crying_.  
  
“Get out.”  
  
“…Sly,” Noiz hesitates, isn’t sure what to say, because he feels like he’s walked in on a very private moment. He doesn’t get emotions and he wonders if he just isn’t cut out for comfort. But he’ll try. For Sly, he realizes, he’s always try. Because they’re best friends and something like that. Something else.  
  
“I said get out,” Sly mumbles it this time, with less venom, and he rolls onto his left side so he’s facing the wall.  
  
Noiz doesn’t take the hint and leave. Instead, he goes over and sits on the edge of the bed beside Sly. He watches as Sly tenses up and he, against the little judgment Noiz has about people and social situations, leans in to try and get a good look at Sly’s expression.  
  
Sly feels him close - rather, he feels the shift in the bed and the insane amount of warmth that Noiz always radiates. He smells that amazing cologne Noiz always wears and he just feels the presence that is distinctly Noiz. His heart starts freaking out again and Sly screws his eyes shut to try and make it stop. He doesn’t need this right now. Not when he’s crying over his deceased brother.  
  
“Weird.”  
  
“What?” Sly sounds absolutely offended but Noiz cuts him off before he can go off the deep end.  
  
“…You’re pretty. Even when you cry.”  
  
It’s the singlemost sweetest and strange and romantic thing Noiz has ever uttered and Sly strains to make sense of it. Was he just called pretty? By his best friend? Sure, Noiz is socially awkward and sometimes just blurts things out, but it sounded sincere, sounded warm, sounded like it was crossing a line.  
  
Sly sighs, loudly, and rolls onto his back so he can stare up at his friend who is seated beside him. “Punk. Why aren’t you downstairs drinking?”  
  
“You’re up here.”  
  
Sly looks away, feeling his face burning up. “Yeah. And?”  
  
Noiz wrinkles his nose. “I came to see you.”  
  
“I get why you’re up here, yeah.”  
  
“Tonight.”  
  
“Oh.”  
  
Of course it made sense. Why else would Noiz agree to come to the party? He and Aoba weren’t particularly close.  
  
“Wanna head back down?” Noiz is offering it as an escape, as a way for Sly to remain dignified and pretend he wasn’t just crying in front of his best friend. Sly is grateful, he really is, because Noiz knows not to harp, not to pick and meddle when Sly clearly doesn’t want that. It’s strange, but it’s so nice and refreshing. But right now, Sly almost wants him to forget what he’s learned about Sly’s habits - He wants Noiz to meddle.  
  
“He died two years ago today,” Sly mumbles, softly, zoning out on the ceiling. “Bastard just left us without any warning. We always knew he was sick but - shit, Noiz, you don’t expect someone to die when they’re so young. It’s just not fucking fair.”  
  
Noiz isn’t entirely sure he gets it, but he’s heard this kind of talk from Sly before, in passing, about people dying young and he supposes that’s what Sly off, to be so disobedient. And Noiz supposes it’s a way of Sly guarding himself against people - that it’s a mask and a defense mechanism, because losing his brother was enough to torment him and hurt him that he’d never be able to handle hurt again. So he started refusing to let people in. And Noiz sees that, he gets that - because parents do that, too, and it hurts just as badly.  
  
Noiz lets Sly ramble for a bit, just about Sei and Aoba and life and how stupid it all is. He lets Sly talk and he just makes tiny noises that he’s listening. Eventually, Sly stops and just closes his eyes and breathes.  
  
It’s around that time that Noiz thinks that maybe it’s okay to reach over and brush Sly’s bangs back, because they are all over his face and probably should go behind his ear. It’s something one of Noiz’s private tutors back in Germany would do - the nicest one of them all - and it was something he brought with him into his years in Japan. Those brief moments of normalcy, of true human affection and empathy. Those rare things he learned from the rare bursts of human contact.  
  
Sly doesn’t squirm, doesn’t batt the hand away. Instead, he murmurs softly, “…Feels nice, brat.” And as Noiz continues it, albeit hesitantly, Sly finally sighs and says, “We should go back downstairs.”  
  
So they do.  
  


* * *

  
  
And maybe that was either a great idea or a horrible one because when they do, when Sly is certain his face isn’t tear-stained, he stops dead in his tracks. Because they’re walking side-by-side and they just entered the living room and Aoba is standing far too close to them smirking and Sly’s stomach drops and his gut wrenches and he doesn’t even need to wait for Aoba to whistle and point up at the sprig of green floating above their heads. Sly just  _knows_  this was Aoba’s plan all along, brother-be-damned.  
  
“Noiz, you know what that means, right?” Aoba cooes, grinning like a madman.  
  
Noiz is staring at the plant with utter fascination. “Yeah.”  
  
Aoba is honestly surprised he knows but he grins, nods, and starts to slink away. “It’s a tradition, right~?”  
  
Sly starts cussing and he’s acting like a pissed off alleycat. If he hadn’t been crying over Sei earlier, he may have been able to shrug this all off much faster, but it’s the delay where he’s letting it all sink in that he’s vulnerable.  
  
He doesn’t realize what’s going on until Noiz’s hand is warm and on his cheek, turning his face to him. Sly blinks, very slowly, and that murderous look is there for a split second before it fades because Noiz has insanely pretty eyes and Sly’s body and heart are doing the lurching and climbing-out-of-his-throat thing from earlier. He blinks at Noiz for a long period, who blinks back, licking his bottom lip absently. Sly knows it’s coming, he knows it’s inevitable with the way he’s staring and with the fact they’re under the damn mistletoe, but the anxiety and buildup is killing him.  
  
The kiss still manages to steal his breath away.  
  
And Sly grips onto Noiz’s shoulders for dear life even though it’s a simple kiss, just brushing of lips. Noiz’s lips are soft and warm and the snakebites tickle Sly’s face and  _damn does it feel good_  and Sly can’t help but wonder what those snakebites would feel like elsewhere, again. His heartbeat is out of control and he feels Noiz’s hand on his lower back, just keeping his steady, like he always does, the insufferable brat of a best friend.  
  
But it tastes so good and Sly, despite his tendency to be seductive and charming, has never fooled around with a guy before but he’s very seriously considering it because Noiz is perfect and pretty and—  
  
“Come upstairs with me,” Sly whispers, almost begs, pleads, and he digs his nails just a tiny bit into Noiz’s shoulder because he knows the other can’t feel so he imagines that might actually make a mark and get him off or something silly.  
  
“‘kay,” Noiz says back, simply, lips ghosting and brushing over Sly’s a second time. It’s amazing and warm and Sly doesn’t want to break apart. So he doesn’t. He hooks his free hand down into the many loops of Noiz’s belt and he starts dragging him, backwards, towards the stairs. He figures they both won’t be missed. Not too much.  
  
They get upstairs and the first thing Noiz does is discard Sly’s silly santa hat because he can’t take this seriously with it on. Noiz nudges the door closed behind him with his foot because his hands are busy roaming along Sly’s back and hair and shoulders and sides.  
  
“You know I can’t feel,” Noiz says, simply, not out of worry or anything else, and it sounds so casual that Sly almost misses it. Almost.  
  
“Yeah, and? I’ve never messed around with a guy before, so there’s  _that_ ,” Sly grumbles and he kind of tips his head back when he realizes that Noiz is peppering his neck and jaw with kisses and christ it feels so  _good_.  
  
“I haven’t either.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Not willingly, anyway. A few blowjobs, maybe. Back in Germany.”  
  
“Ah.”  
  
Sly is kind of surprised and yet he isn’t, from what Noiz would tell him about his fucked up homelife and the favors he did and the ideas he got about people. It took awhile to get Noiz straight, to bash it into his head that not everyone is like that and Sly would kick his ass if he ever assumed that Sly wanted anything out of Noiz besides “a Rhymer nerd” even though they both knew they were the closest to “friends” either of them had ever had.  
  
“..I trust you,” Sly finally mumbles, just as Noiz is leaving a mark on his neck and making Sly breathless, his hands roaming up and under Sly’s shirt, mapping out the dips and grooves of his back. “So don’t fuck up.”  
  
Noiz smiles, just a tiny bit, against the soft and pale skin. “I still have to give you your present later.”  
  
Sly is blushing madly again and he mutters, “Brat. This is a good enough present.”  
  
And Noiz practically  _nuzzles_  his best friend’s neck and says, “‘kay. My present in exchange for you. Deal?”  
  
Sly actually smacks Noiz upside the head, albeit gently, for that remark. His heart is out of control and he isn’t sure he can handle any of this right now and he just hugs Noiz so close with his free arm that isn’t being used for bodily harm. “Idiot. What an idiot,” he keeps muttering, face on fire, but his actions are basically consenting that yeah, this is worth a shot and yeah, maybe he’s had a stupid crush on his stupid best friend for the past few months. Because no one ever stayed and Noiz has stayed for the past year and a half and that has to mean something.  
  
“Deal?” Noiz repeats, warm breath near Sly’s ear and Sly knows this is hard for both of them, that they don’t get people, but here Noiz is, willing to try and —  
  
“Yeah. Merry Christmas, punk.”


End file.
